


The Rules of Desperation

by Leya



Series: Family-Bounds-Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 15:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leya/pseuds/Leya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months since Dean made his deal with the Yellow-Eyed-Demon. Six months full of guilt and self-reproach for his family. How can they live with the knowledge of being responsible for Dean's sacrifice?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.

John left the small log cabin hidden in the woods a few miles behind an insignificant backwater town and let his gaze wander over the small yard, where grass, bushes and trees proliferated in each and every direction.

For a long moment he stood on the rotten planks of the front porch, unsure of what to do next.

It was more than obvious that the house had been empty for several years. Whoever had lived here in the past, they were long gone, leaving nothing behind except of several broken pieces of furniture and the obligatory cobwebs.

On his way to the cabin John had tried his best not to be to hopeful but although his mind told him that he was just deceiving himself, all his efforts to keep his emotions under control turned out to be futile. He found himself praying for a wonder, hoping that now would be this one time fate wasn’t against him even if he was all too aware of the possibility to be on the wrong track.

And then he was actually there, kicking down the door of the cabin, barging in and facing nothing. In this moment his worst nightmare had come true.

He should have known that his trip out here would be a waste of time but it had been the only trail for them to follow, their first hint of Dean's whereabouts since his oldest son sold himself to the Yellow-Eyed-Demon.

Looking at the deserted house John once more asked himself when his life had gone so terribly wrong. Six months before they lost Dean and John still couldn't believe what happened. Their lifelong hunt for the Yellow-Eyed-Demon came to sudden ending the very moment this vile creature tricked his eldest son into making a deal with him.

_Everything to protect his family._

Closing his eyes in defeat John allowed himself for the first time in six months to acknowledge his failure. Dean was gone. Lost. Forever.

And it was his fault.

If only he had been a better father. If only he had paid his sons more attention. If only he had listened to his eldest son, tried to understand and help him. But he never really saw Dean until it was too late. No. Being honest with himself for the first time in nearly twenty years John had to admit that since the fateful moment he placed little Sammy in Dean's arms and told him to run it had been too late.

Too late for Dean to achieve his dreams, too late for him live a life of his own. By placing his baby-brother in the arms of his eldest son and telling, no ordering, him to protect Sam no matter what the cost may be, he laid the foundations for Dean's insecurity, his self-consciousness and his self-destructive tendency to please his father and make him proud by being a good little soldier.

John swallowed repeatedly but the lump in his throat just wouldn't go away. Of course he knew what Sammy called his brother when he thought their father wasn't listening. He knew that Sammy laughed about Dean's desperate efforts to hold their family together. Too selfish to regard Dean's feelings at least a little bit Sammy sometimes loved to make Dean miserable, loved to show him that he wasn't needed and that he, unlike his big brother, was independent enough to go his own way.

Just like he had done six months ago... and so many times before.

The elder Winchester especially remembered one of those rare times they actually rented a house and stayed in one place for several months in a row.

It had been the end of the term and Sammy, happy to be top of the class, couldn't resist taunting Dean about his rather low grades. The youngest Winchester gleefully mocked his older brother, called him stupid and laughed outright in his face when Dean admitted that his grades were barely good enough for him to pass.

He should have interfered but John had been so caught up in his own little world of revenge and despair that he never showed any kind of interest for things concerning the ‘normal life’. Instead of being the father both his sons needed he forced them to follow him, moving all over the country in his delusional quest for revenge. Year after year he had spend more and more time on various hunts, leaving his sons behind and Dean, still a small child himself, with the responsibility to take care of his little brother.

All those years Dean did his best to replace his mother and John never even realised it. He and Sammy took Dean for granted and instead of making them acknowledge his achievements everything Dean did just increased their indifference.

Dean cared for them and made sure they had everything they needed. Every time John came home from his work in the garage Dean saw to that a cold beer was waiting for him. Not only he cooked for his father and little brother but also managed all the housework and the shopping, controlled Sammy's homework, walked his younger brother to school and back, while trying his best not to fail his own classes.

And not once, in all those years, John ever bothered to say thank you. He never told Dean how proud he was and he never asked what Dean wanted to do in his life. Sammy always had been very clear about his goals in life but Dean, shy, withdrawn Dean defined himself over his family. All his life he craved nothing more than a family. His father and brother were those who made Dean happy. It never mattered for him if they lived in a house or the crappiest motel they could find. As long as his father and brother were there it was home.

Someone to belong to was all Dean ever wanted but his family never cared. Sam and his father used every chance to butt their heads about inanities, neither of them willing to back down and to self-absorbed to realise what their constant fighting did to Dean.

The two people Dean loved more than anything in the whole world did everything to break Dean's innocent little dream of a family to pieces, trampling down all his hopes and wishes and with every fight ripping his already torn soul more and more apart.

Realisation brought another disturbing thought to his mind and John found himself on the verge of tears when he finally became aware of the fact that Dean had every reason to leave them behind.

No. He wouldn't go there. Not now, not ever. There was no need to give up. They would find Dean and bring him back. Period.

Scolding himself to get a grip he threw the cabin a withering look and walked over to his truck. Climbing inside he closed the door with unnecessary force and weighted his options.

Sooner or later he had to tell Sammy about their latest failure so there was no use in stalling the inevitable but John wasn't sure if he was ready for another of their horrendous arguments yet. Maybe he never would be. Since Dean's sacrifice his youngest son had changed and for the first time in his life John had to admit that Sam's cold and ruthless demeanor actually frightened him.

Alone the way Sammy had achieved the information about the cabin made John's skin crawl. It seemed that losing his brother had literally pushed his younger son over the edge. The images of the unholy ritual Sam used to learn about Dean's whereabouts were deeply imprinted in John's mind. Sometimes he even dreamt about the bloody runes painted on the walls of Bobby's cellar illuminated by dozens of black candles...

Shaking himself quickly out of his unpleasant memories and too worn out to deal any further with the omnipresent feeling of guilt and self-reproach John finally dialled his youngest son. Right after ringing for the first time Sammy answered the call.

„Dad?”

All of a sudden the world seemed to close in on him and in a voice, he didn't recognise as his own, John croaked: “No.”

In the silence following his confession he could hear Sam breaking down. A painful sob escaped his son and John wished there was something for him to say but since Mary died he never had been able to express his emotions and so he did the only thing he always did when he tried to comfort his sons: burying everything too painful to deal with deep inside him and masking his broken heart by acting like the cold-blooded and callous soldier his younger son always accused him to be.

“Don't act as if you're a little girl, Sammy! Dean would have wanted for you to be strong and finish what we've started. It's not over and when we track this Yellow-Eyed bastard down he'll pay.”

“Yeah, dad! Always the fearless hunter! You talk as if Dean is already dead!” Sam spat in his ear and John found himself involuntarily backing away from all this hate and venom he heard in his youngest voice.

“Sammy...”

Never before he had felt so helpless. The unbearable pain of being responsible for losing his son had already made his life a living hell. Every waking hour he remembered the fateful moment when he fell prey to the yellow-eyed-bastard who killed his wife, remembered how careless he had been and how easily it had been for the demon to take over. His stubborn believe to be prepared for everything, to know exactly how to defend himself, his sheer _arrogance_ , they all had made him an easy target.

And Dean had once more paid the price. 

“When you hadn’t been too stupid to take care of yourself nothing would have happened! But you just had to go and get yourself possessed! Now he's gone and it's your fault!”

Of course Sam not only had to rub it in, but also made it sound as if he killed his own son.

“I won't be spoken to like that, boy! It’s your fault just as much as it is mine. And you bloody well know it!” John shot back, his tone now equally nasty but he knew that just before Dean considered to make a deal with their nemesis Sam had once more pushed his brother away.

“Fuck you, dad! You can't even admit that it was your stubbornness and narrow-minded wish for revenge that started this whole mess we're actually in!”

Jesus.

They were doing it again. Fighting and tearing out each other's throat, each trying to make his point of view clear to the other and again forgetting the only important thing in their life: Dean.

“You're right.”

Astonished John blinked a few times before he realised that he had spoken out loud and his son finally was opening up to him.

“I know that it's my fault, Dad! Don't think I'm not aware of my failure. I just thought that when I told him to take care of himself Dean would listen to me. But I should have known better and now everything's fucked up.” Suddenly the voice on the other end of the line sounded so young and forlorn that John wanted nothing more than to take his son into his arms and hold him until his pain subsided.

“I’m useless, Dad”, Sam whispered nearly inaudible into the phone. He sounded ashamed of himself. “No visions, nothing. I'm trying and trying but they just won't come. I can't find him and it’s driving me insane.”

“I know, Sammy. I know.” Not knowing what happened to their son and brother had been like living every day of the past six months in hell for the both remaining Winchesters. Literally.

“I can't go on like this any longer.” A resigned sigh brushed against his ear. “And that's the reason I have to go.”

It took several seconds for John to register what Sam just told him but then he grabbed his phone so hard he heard the plastic crack in his grip. “What are you talking about? Sam? Talk to me, son! Please...”

The dialling tone of an interrupted connection caught John off guard. Staring disbelievingly at the now silent phone in his hand he eventually placed it on the front passenger seat and for long moments he just sat there, tears blurring his vision, before he gave in to his churned up emotions and by letting his head sink down on the steering wheel John Winchester began to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

The Impala was gone. 

Although John had known what to expect as soon as Sam hung up on him it hurt more than he imagined possible to have the actual proof for his son's decision to leave him. Again. 

It was just like the time when Sam packed his bags and left for Stanford, fleeing into a normalcy his family obviously wasn't able to offer. 

Sam had made his decision then and avoided to get involved in a discussion by confronting his family with a fait accompli, letter of acceptance in one and his bag in the other hand, and John had been too hurt to show other emotions than anger and disappointment towards his wayward son – not able to express his worries and fear of Sam being out there alone and his helplessness made him say things he bitterly regretted as soon as the door slammed shut behind his youngest. 

Their rift put a strain on them all – but only Dean hurt so much he nearly broke apart. 

Of course his eldest had pretended everything to be alright and continued to live on like before, hunting and flirting and drinking as if nothing happened at all, but his cheerful mask was slipping every now and then, his fake smiles and lame jokes an act so poor that John should have seen right through it. 

All it would have taken was the willingness to pay attention to his son's emotions but it was so much easier to just see the strong and independent young man Dean wanted him to see, to ignore the pain constantly shadowing the clear green eyes and allowing himself to wallow in anger and self-pity. 

It would have been his duty to be there for Dean while his whole world broke into pieces but instead of being the father his son so badly needed John once more used his eldest as support, selfishly relying on Dean's strength to take care of everything – and failed miserably to notice that Dean wasn't as strong as he pretended to be. 

Dean longed for the company of his brother, longed for them to get over their differences and talk, desperately hoping for a wonder to save his family from falling apart but neither his father nor his brother cared enough for Dean to fulfill the only wish he ever voiced. 

Now he knew how Dean had felt all his life. 

For long moments the dark-haired hunter just sat there, staring at the vacant place the big black car normally inhabited and tried to wrap his mind around the fact that his family was falling apart right in front of his eyes – and that there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

There once had been a time he and Mary seemed to have everything. They were young and in love with two wonderful and healthy children. All their dreams were just a breath away – or so they thought. 

Reality caught up soon enough and now all John ever dreamt of was shattered and broken, ruined by a demon who just forced his way into his family over and over again, killing and taking and tainting everything he believed in until nothing remained except the bitter truth of his failure. 

After living for so long inside his own little world of hate and self-reproach being honest to himself wasn't something John was used to but he couldn't delude himself any longer. His inability to come off his unhealthy desire for revenge caused him to completely lose sight of the one reason he originally became a hunter for – the protection of his family. 

He once accused Sam of abusing his brother's self-sacrificing nature for his own advantage. And even if his accusations had been justified – he had absolutely no right to rebuke Sam for something John also had done so often over the years. 

Thinking about the way he used Dean as a surrogate mother for his youngest and saddling him with almost impossible task to replace Mary every time John needed someone to talk to now made his stomach churn in self-abhorrence but it was too late for regrets and above all too late to develop a bad conscious all of a sudden. 

His sons had deserved so much more but all they got was a father who defined his life over successful hunts, expecting his boys to be nothing more than obedient little soldiers in his crusade against evil. 

Suddenly feeling too tired to deal with this new-found honesty John shook off his devastating thoughts about past mistakes and decided that it was time to face whatever waited for him inside Bobby's house. 

On his way back he had tried to contact the older hunter but to no avail. After dialing the number he already had memorized for the tenth time without getting any response he finally gave up – but the sickening feeling in his gut intensified. 

It wasn't that he distrusted Sam but still... his son had been on the edge since this fateful moment Dean sold his soul and there was absolutely no way to predict how far Sam would go to get through with his plans. 

“Bobby?” 

John reached the front door, knocking loudly to announce his arrival, before stepping into the poorly lit hallway. From one minute to the next he knew that something was wrong. 

It was far too quiet. 

As noiselessly as possible he pulled out his gun, careful not to disturb the deafening silence surrounding him, breathlessly waiting in the semi darkness for something to happen. It was no surprise when the eerie atmosphere soon got on his already strained nerves, quickly causing the pit of his stomach to fill with a rather unpleasant emotional mix between claustrophobia and panic. 

An almost inaudible noise caught his attention and John almost instantly forgot about his fears. 

Deliberately avoiding the two creaking floorboards in the middle of the hallway he slowly made his way over to the living-room, intently listening for a moment to estimate his chances, before he threw open the door and rushed inside, gun ready to fight the dangers supposedly awaiting him – just to stop dead in his tracks when he saw the chaotic scene unfolding in front of his eyes. 

_What the hell happened?_

John was used to Bobby's rather unique way to keep his books and pergaments in order but now, standing in the midst of a completely wrecked living-room, the dark-haired hunter found himself rendered speechless. 

Never before he had seen such a complete chaos like the one he was facing now. Books and papers were scattered all over the place, most of them covering the floor like a carpet of white, beige, brown and red. Obviously someone had used, discarded and carelessly thrown them away. 

It would take months to clean this mess up. 

A soft rustling warned him in time to whirled around, gun ready in firing position, just to find himself staring right in the muzzle of a shotgun. 

Both men stared at each other, wary and too stunned to move until John had enough of this ridiculous stand-off and lowered his weapon. 

“What the hell happened to your house, Singer?” 

Instead of answering Bobby just cocked the hammer, ready to fire at the other hunter. John hastily took a step back and raised his hands, trying to look as harmless as possible. He waited until he had Bobby's undivided attention before he holstered his gun and accepted the small silver flask with holy water from the other hunter. 

Bobby was far beyond pissed, that much John could tell, but at least he finally calmed down enough to lower his weapon after he satisfied himself that his visitor wasn't possessed. 

“What do you want, Winchester?” 

“Why didn't you answer your phone?” It came out far more accusingly than he intended to and Bobby almost instantly bristled with anger. 

“This idiot son of yours has completely lost it, that's why!” The older hunter put his shotgun aside and before John had a chance to react, Bobby turned around and presented John a large bump on the back of his head. 

“Oh...” All of a sudden John didn't know what to say. It seemed as if his worries had been more than valid because Sam showed signs of a mental instability John would never have thought possible. Dean's disappearance had changed them all so much it almost seemed as if they not only lost their son and brother but their heart and soul as well. 

“Tell me where he went. I have to follow him.” 

“Well, I think I've done enough. Find out for yourself, Winchester!” Bobby snapped at his visitor and pointed at one of his precious books, lying face-down on the carpet. “Do you see this? Sam ruined my books and it will take forever to clean this mess up. Helping you and your son's always causing me trouble.” 

“Now wait a minute...” John tried to reason with the other hunter but Bobby wasn't far from finished. 

“Do you know what your son did to the books he couldn't take with him? He just ripped out the pages he was interested in and when I tried to stop him he knocked me down without batting an eyelid!” 

“Look...” John tried again and distractedly rubbed the back of his neck. “I'm sorry. I really am. But I need your help to find him.” 

“It's hard to keep track when you're unconscious.” Bobby still wasn't in the mood for a reasonable conversation. “I don't know where he went and to be honest I don't care at all. Not as long as my living-room looks like a field of rubble.” 

John knew when he had to give in. He knew Bobby for so many years now that he instinctively recognized when it was time to back off. “Don't worry I'm getting out of your hair right now, Singer. Sorry my family is such a nuisance to you.” 

The cold night air was like a slap in the face and John suddenly felt faint enough to break down there and then. Shit. The last thing he wanted was for Bobby to find him sitting pathetically on his veranda steps but it couldn't be helped and so he heavily sat down, too worn out for now to continue on his search. 

His worst nightmare had come true. 

How was he supposed to deal with the fact that Sam had turned his back on him, had discarded him like an unwanted burden just like John had done with Dean so many month ago? 

For a moment John almost choked on the overwhelming feeling of guilt suddenly gathering in his throat but he forced it down quickly. He couldn't afford to waste any more time than he already had. Sam was gone again but this time he wasn't just a rebellious teenager on a trip to find himself. No, this time it was thousand times worse. 

Soft footsteps announced Bobby's approach. Seconds later a cold bottle of beer found its way into his hands and John grabbed it, thankful to have something to hold onto while his world slowly crumbled to dust. 

“I really don't know where he went.” 

It was the proverbial olive branch and John gratefully accepted it. 

“I know.” 

Bobby sat down beside him and stared at his own beer as if the bottle held all the secrets in the world. 

“He took all the books about demonologie he could find”, the older hunter told him and an unhappy sigh escaped his lips. “You know what this means. He's going to hunt that bastard down but the way he choose... it's the worst decision he ever made in his whole life.” 

John nodded, a look of utter resignation written all over his face. “I never thought it would come to this. Sammy has been such a highly sensitive child, never happy when he had to kill even if it meant he could rescue someone else. But now it's as if... I don't know...” 

“That boy knocking me down and stealing all my books, that's not the Sammy I knew all his life”, Bobby interrupted him softly, dark eyes full of understanding and pity. “He has already begun to change. You know what he might turn into when we're not stopping him.” 

John didn't answer. There was no need to. They both knew who was to blame for the whole incident. It was something John would have to live with for the rest of his life. He had lost both of his boys because of his incompetence and now he had to pay the price. 

But even if the knowledge of what he had to do was shredding his heart into thousands of pieces, he would take responsibility for his mistakes. And when stopping the evil meant to hunt Sammy down than this was exactly what he was going to do. 

 

END


End file.
